Looking for Color
by CacoPhoniA
Summary: Roxas, a hopeful photographer, feels greyness taking over his world, until a splash of color walks into his life.  AU, BL. R&R.


A/N: Six a.m this time that inspiration struck me. I read something about cameras and... yea.

Enjoy.

0-0-0

Click.

Roxas stared at the broken porcelain dolls-head on the street in front of his house. He had thought of this for a moment, then had pulled out his camera.

Click.

And ended up with 30 shots of the head. Different angles, catching shadow in some, others with its fake hair spreak out like fingers on the concrete. He zoomed in on the face, camera clicking again.

Long fake eyelashes.

A gust of wind rushed past him, along with the mechanical roar of a bus.

He had missed his bus taking pictures of a dolls-head.

Oh well. At least he'd have something decent to show in Photography today.

He tucked his camera into his shoulder bag, turning to speed-walk the two miles to his school.

0-0-0

"Wow, Roxas...these are great."

Roxas inwardly sighed at the mediocre compliment.

"Great" wasn't going to cut it if he was going to become a photographer one day.

"I mean, the symbolism is nice...something to do with death, or perhaps conformism?"

What? All he had done was take a picture of a dolls-head. It had just been outside when he had walked out to catch the bus. Not much symbolism in those actions.

"Yea, that's it." he replied, picking up the just developed photo.

Adults always overthink things.

0-0-0

When Roxas walked the hallways, he sometimes wished he could take a picture of the din that hovered in the white hallways. The constant noise was so astonishing. He wondered what it would look like. Waves? Jagged lines? Perhaps fog-like clouds that would swirl every which-way.

He opened his locker, taking out his Art textbook. He cursed his inability to draw, or maybe he would be able to draw the din, or that dolls-head.

0-0-0

"Okay class, I guess we got a new student!"

Not his chosen way for a teacher to talk, but whatever. He brought his hand up under his chin, propping his head up.

"Wonder who the new kid is."

A boy called Demyx elbowed him lightly, glancing in his direction.

"I don't know." he answered simply, resisting the urge to snap at him for his studpidity.

If it wasn't obvious yet, he hated people.

The teacher looked out the open door, beckoning towards with his index finger.

"Why don't you come in. We don't bite."

A splash of red filled the room, in the form of spikes, accompanied with two drips of green on a white-as-a-canvas face. Purple followed, then black, head-to-toe.

The voice of the colors filled the room. "I might though." The living, walking painting grinned, though it was much more like a smirk.

"You got a name, son?"

The bright greens flashed.

"Axel." The grin grew cat-like, wide.

"Ah. And how would you spell that?"

"A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?"

Roxas remembered to breathe, and realized that he had been staring.

But...who wasn't?

He was a work of art.

Roxas resisted the urge to pull out his camera and click away.

0-0-0

The painting had been seated beside him in Art, where he had proceeded to stare at Roxas. It made him feel like that bright green, was electric, running cold through his veins.

"Hey." HE whispered, poking Roxas.

Roxas chose to take his regular approach: Stoic and silent, turned and raised an eyebrow.

He poked him again.

"What's your name?"

Such an innocent question...but could imply so much.

Well, it would help him get closer to his main objective.

"Roxas." He replied in a nearly audible voice.

The painting gave a smirk.

"Nice."

"I'm Axel."

"I know." He cringed at the angry edge to his own voice. He regretted it almost immediately, and watched as bright green faded to a dull forest green.

So much for good impressions.

0-0-0

It turned out that "Axel" had almost every class with him, to his disdain.

"Disdain" by he was feeling like a stalker, hands aching to reach for his camera and click away.

It was going to be a long day.

0-0-0

Roxas was sitting on the bus, looking through the pictures in his camera.

Thirty of the doll-head.  
>A few of birds, all not anything to look twice at.<br>A butterfly, red dots on the wings caught in the light.

He sighed. There wasn't much that he had to offer in his photos.

He needed new subjects.

The bus skidded to a halt outside of his house, and he got off, responding with a grunt to the bux drivers "Bye."

The doll's head was smashed.

It's ivory-colored porcelain head was cracked like a spiderweb, hair attached to a few scattered pieces.

But it's eyes were the same.  
>So souless.<p>

Roxas took out his camera again.

Click.

0-0-0

"Oh my twitchy witchy girl.."

His mom-

"I think you are so nice."

-was the epitome-

"I give you bowls of porridge and I give you bowls of ice...cream!~"

-of happiness.

He watched as she glided around the house, singing quirky little songs.

Her newest favorite was from Coraline, and she often sang it to him.

And he didn't really mind.

She was the light that kept him out of the dark.

Now all he needed was color.

Because even if you have light, the world you live in can still be black-and-white.

He NEEDED color.

Of course he saw color, but not like a photographer should. He didn't ever have violent urges to take a picture of anything because of its color.

Well, except for today.

He tried to explain the color situation before to his mother, but she didn't quite understand as she should.

She had simply raised her eyebrows and said:

"Well, sweetie, maybe you need glasses."

0-0-0

Sometimes Roxas wanted to open his window to find something laying there worth photographing.

But of course that never happened.

So every night, when his mother had fallen asleep, he climbed out said window and went searching.

Often he chose the park.

There was no reason to it, really.

Maybe he just liked the quaint emptiness that night left in the small children's park.

He often chose the swings as a place to sit, so that he had a good view of anything that was good.

But today there was someone in his spot.

Dark red shined in the moonlight, and green shown flourescent.

The living painting.

He stared up at the moon, mouth that was usually turned up into a smile was now a straight line, almost too serious.

Roxas stepped foward, cringing at the sound of grass rustling that had seemed so loud. Apparently it was enough, because Axel turned to look at him. Green eyes flashed again, and he lifted a hand in a sort-of wave.

"What're you doing here?"  
>Dang. Wrong choice of words.<p>

Axel's eyebrows furrowed.

"Am I not allowed to be here?:

Roxas scratched the back of his head, fiddling with the strap of his shoulder bag.

"N-no, it's fine."

Axel relaxed in the swing, pushing his feet off the ground to propel himself foward into the air, higher and higher.

He wasn't smiling.

Roxas walked foward slowly, pulling his camera out of his bag.

"U-um-"

Axel looked down as he got to the highest he could get in his swing.

"Yea?"

"C-can I take your picture?"

Axel gave him a clearly confused look, but shrugged.

"Go ahead."

Roxas raised his camera slowly, aiming it at Axel just as he arched on the swing.

Click.

Two pictues. One blurry, making him look ghostly. The other was perfect, no smudges. Just him, leaning backward as the moonlight reflected off of him.

Roxas almost smiled.

The crunch of gravel made him look away from the picture.

"Can I see?"

A thin hand was reached out, palm faced upward.

"Sure." He passed the camera over to Axel. He watched as the other boy looked at his pictures, showing no emotions on his face.

The clicking of buttons stopped, and he smiled.

"I like this one."

He tossed the camera back to Roxas, who looked down at the screen.

It was a picture of himself, on the first day he had gotten his beloved camera. It had been an experimental picture, and it had been before he had learned that smiling wasn't always necessary in pictures.

His smile was wide, eyes bright.

God, he looked so much younger. So naive.

"You should smile more often."

He jumped when his cheek was pinched in a mock-maternal way.

"See ya, Roxy."

Axel backed off into the shadow of a tree, to where only the bottom half of his face showed.

He raised is hand in a wave, and left.

Roxas was left, standing there for awhile, just staring at he spot where Axel had previously stood.

He looked at his camera.

He had found a new subject.

0-0-0

A/N: Well, there's the first chapter. This fanfiction is my prized possession at the moment. It has a lot of my views put into Roxas's mouth here. It is a bit angsty, but I wanted to make something other than humor, you know? I'd really like it if I got good reviews and lots of hits on this thing! I spent all day writing it and more! XD I'll put up chapter two as soon as I'm done putting it down on paper.

Well...my talking time is over!

Thank you!

- - Yuki 


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